


459. death

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [232]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “I did not know there were more of us,” Helena says, and Sarah’s shoulders – just a little – go stiff.“Not surprised,” she says, the sound a scoff. She’s British. So are the Proletheans who came with her. Helena didn’tknow—





	

Sarah hasn’t moved since the moment she crouched in front of her sniper rifle. Helena’s been watching her. She is: still. Helena gets still when it’s time to fire the gun, but never this early. Katja-Obinger isn’t going to be here for almost an hour. The air is a haze of pollen. It’s fall, but the light is golden; Helena is fiddling with a doll she brought along in her pocket. If Sarah wasn’t here she could talk to it, and it could talk back, but Sarah is here. She’s just – staring. Staring through the sniper scope.

“I did not know there were more of us,” Helena says, and Sarah’s shoulders – just a little – go stiff.

“Not surprised,” she says, the sound a scoff. She’s British. So are the Proletheans who came with her. Helena didn’t _know_ —

“Why,” she says.

“You always talk this much?”

“Yes.”

Sarah looks up from the sniper rifle at that. A smile curls up the corner of her mouth, but just the corner. Helena reaches out and puts the tips of her fingers to it – or tries to. Sarah grabs her wrist before she can reach. “No,” she says.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me,” Helena says, “about you.”

Sarah studies her for a moment, and then in one sudden gesture lets her wrist go. Helena leaves her hand where it is and Sarah huffs something like approval and finally leans away from the sniper rifle. She stretches out lazily in the tall gold grass. “Slippery slope,” she says, and closes her eyes. “Watch the gun, yeah?”

“The copy won’t be here for an hour.”

“People can be early.”

Helena crawls over the sprawl of Sarah and leans in front of the gun. The scope is still perfectly positioned. She leans back again. “What is slippering,” she says.

“I’m different from the rest of them, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Helena says.

“Why?”

“Because you are a savior,” Helena says. “Like me. God chose you.”

“How d’you know God didn’t choose the rest of them?”

“Because he didn’t,” Helena says, blinking.

“Yeah,” Sarah says, “but now you’re thinkin’ about it, aren’t you.” She opens her eyes. The stare of them on Helena is summersun and headshots. “Slippery slope.”

Helena pops the head off the doll and rolls it between her hands, considering this. “Did you fall down the slope, Sarah?”

“Never climbed it in the first place.”

Helena drops the doll. It falls, soundless, into the yellow grass. She stares at Sarah. Sarah stares back.

“You don’t believe,” Helena says quietly, painfully, desperately.

Sarah puts a finger to her lips: _shh_.

“You brought us here,” Helena says.

“You set up the gun,” Helena says.

“You told me,” Helena says, “to watch the gun, you said, the copy had to die, you said it, we have to kill her, you _said_ —” and she didn’t even mean to and she’s sitting on top of Sarah’s hips and her hands are around Sarah’s throat and she didn’t mean to, didn’t even mean to, that’s the worst part.

No, wait, the worst part is that Sarah doesn’t even look afraid.

No, wait, that’s the best part.

“We still have to kill her,” Sarah says, voice coaxing. “Just not ‘cause God said it.” Her hands cover Helena’s hands around her throat. Her fingers are warm. “Doesn’t that make it easier? Doesn’t mean shite. Just a headshot.”

“No,” Helena whispers. “No, no, no.”

Sarah’s thumb is rubbing back and forth over the back of her hand. Nobody has ever done that for Helena before; she doesn’t know what it means, but it feels good. Her hands are still around Sarah’s throat, but underneath the heel of her hand Sarah’s pulse is steady. Sarah is steady.

“Why me,” Helena says. “Why tell me this. I did not want to know this. I don’t want it.”

Sarah’s face shifts, just a little bit, and for the first time Helena recognizes the expression. “The others,” Sarah says, “the twats that brought me here, they all believe this. Your handlers, they believe it. I—” she swallows, looks away. Her hands tighten over Helena’s hand. Her thumb stops moving. Helena misses it, Helena doesn’t know why, Helena wants it back.

“I’m sick of being the only one who doesn’t,” Sarah says. “So. Now you’re like me.” She laughs, but it doesn’t sound like she thinks anything is funny. “Sorry. I’m not a good person, but you can probably tell that from the gun.”

“I am not a good person too,” Helena points out.

“Trust me,” Sarah says. “I’m worse.”

Helena tightens her hands, just a little bit. Sarah’s pulse finally – finally – stutters over itself, runs faster. Sarah’s face doesn’t change. It’s still the way Helena had known it before: lonely.

“You’re lying,” Helena says, to test it out. “God didn’t choose you. God sent you to test me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sarah says.

“No it’s _not_.”

“Yeah it is,” Sarah says. “You can feel it, can’t you. You know you’re lyin’, now. Once you know you’re lyin’ it gets harder.

“You can still do it,” she says. “But.”

Helena lets go. She rolls off of Sarah and onto her back; a plume of dust and pollen rises from the ground when she does. She and Sarah both don’t cough. Helena picks up the doll’s head and rolls it between her palms, feeling the soft warm plastic collapse.

“Mind the gun,” Sarah says.

“No,” Helena says.

Sarah laughs, the sound full of dust.

“Why do you care,” Helena says. “Why kill her. Take the gun. Take the bullets. Run away.”

Sarah swallows. “Can’t,” she says.

“Why.”

“ _Can’t_ ,” Sarah says, and for the first time she sounds angry. “Got it?”

“So you will kill her,” Helena says. “Or. I will kill her. Then what.”

“Then we go back,” Sarah says. “We get patted on the head. Praise God.”

“Lying,” Helena says.

“Yeah.” Sarah rolls her head to the side and looks at Helena. Her eyes are the color the grass will be when it dies. That’s the color Helena’s eyes are too, Helena realizes. Is that sad? Does that make her sad?

“Will you?” Sarah says. “Lie.”

_I’ve never had a friend before_ , Helena thinks, and then realizes her mouth is partway open: she’s going to tell Sarah that, that she’s never had a friend. She closes her mouth. When she opens it, what’s on her tongue is: “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Sarah says, smiling a little bit more.

“Yes,” Helena says again. She reaches out her fingers towards Sarah’s smile. This time, Sarah lets her touch it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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